


Feel the (Heart) Beat

by anaraine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: This isn't how he expected to finish out the night. Not that he's complaining.





	Feel the (Heart) Beat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nagoyadelay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagoyadelay/gifts).



A small part of Otabek is irritated by the fact that he's not going to finish up his set personally, but the rest of him? The rest of him doesn't really give a shit.

Not when Chris has him up against the wall, hands under his shirt and holding hard enough that he's going to bruise. Not when there's a mouth against his, stealing his breath with warm kisses and making it hard to breathe. Not when there's a strong thigh between his legs, giving him just enough friction to seem like a cruel tease.

Yeah. Otabek doesn't give a shit about the music at this point, other than the fact he can feel its heavy beat pulsing in his blood.

Chris pulls back enough to let him suck in a lungful of air, and the strobing lights of the club flash across his face. It makes the green of his eyes that much more vivid, like a hungry cat waiting to pounce.

Otabek scrambles enough of himself together to lightly kick Chris in the shin. "That all you got, Giacometti?"

Chris' languid smile deepens into a leer. "Of course not," he says, an undertone of amusement in his voice. Chris slides his hands down over Otabek's hips in slow increments, pressing harder and harder in a way that feels good. Solid.

Chris drifts closer, nudging Otabek's neck to the side to leave a lingering kiss on the wing of his exposed collarbone. Then a kiss over the bud of a nipple, easily felt through the thin fabric of his shirt. Then a kiss to the flat plane of his abdomen, his shirt still rucked up high enough that the lips on his skin felt like a brand.

With a hard grip on his hips, Chris bends at the knee and presses a kiss just above the popped button of pants. He glances up, and there's a catlike gleam of triumph in his eyes as he uses his teeth to pull the zipper down and nuzzle into his cock.

" _Fuck_ ," Otabek groans, Kazakh syllables falling from his tongue.

"What was that?" Chris asks, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and underwear and tugging them down. He's not gentle about it, and Otabek hisses through clenched teeth as his cock slaps lightly against Chris' chin.

Otabek doesn't bother repeating himself in English. He does bother to unclench his fingers from Chris' shoulders, cupping the back of his neck to tug him forward just a fraction as a reminder.

Chris smiles, and takes him into his mouth. It's— it's perfect. Not that he's got much to compare it to, but fuck it. Heat and suction send a dizzying spiral of pleasure up his spine, and Otabek thunks his head against the wall with a low groan. His other hand drifts up to fist itself in Chris' blond hair, tugging at the strands until he could feel an answering moan around his cock.

It doesn't take long.

When Chris pulls back, licking his lips, Otabek musters the strength to pull him up and flip their positions, pressing him into the wall. Chris tastes bitter, but it only flames the heat in Otabek's blood, knowing why.

Chris chuckles under his breath, but the sound is warm and inviting. He ducks his head just enough that he can look _up_ at Otabek through his too long eyelashes. "Care to come back to my room?"

Otabek does.


End file.
